Flown
by Colorain
Summary: Amidala sends someone with her baby daughter to Alderaan. This is her story.


Ok then. I almost didn't dare write a _Star Wars_ fanfiction for a couple of reasons. One: I'm afraid of getting creamed because I don't know the universe as well as practically everybody else. If I make a mistake, who's to say that somebody won't criticize me? Two: I'm writing with a plot, an absolutely alien concept to me. I don't have it all planned out, I'm not sure when I'm ever going to finish it, and I'll probably be ashamed of it later. Disclaimer: I don't own Amidala or Bail so far. If I did, I'd be busy filming the movies and writing the next couple, right? This takes place a few years after _The Phantom Menace_. Umm, read?

Before:

"Amidala, you must know by now that I've come to care for you a great deal."

Padmé Amidala Naberrie's face turned solemn. It had been a long day in the Senate: lots of bickering and fighting over trivialities had gotten them nowhere. All she wanted to do was go to her room, lie down on her bed and sleep. It wasn't that the man who had followed her back to her quarters was unappreciated at the moment; she merely wanted some rest. Pushing her arms into the soft arms of the couch she sat on, Amidala bit back a moan. She had the most horrendous headache . . .

When she had returned to her quarters, Amidala had instantly stormed into her room and thrown off her confining Senate outfit. The large skirt made it difficult to sit down, the ruffles on the sleeves looked absolutely ridiculous, and the bright green color left spots on her eyes. She now greeted her guest in a comfortable blue dress with a flattering empire waist. It enhanced her slight figure, clinging to her curves, but Amidala didn't mind. _Anything_ had to be better than that abomination of an outfit. Just because she was beginning her career in the Senate didn't mean she had to look like a big plant.

Amidala tilted her head, trying to lessen the pain of her headache. All she got for her trouble was an unruly curl springing down to frame her heart-shaped face. Her hair had been put up for the Senate meeting, and Amidala hadn't bothered to change it. Of course, back at her quarters, she _had_ ripped out several of the hairpins holding her long hair away from her face. The man standing beside her certainly didn't seem to have any problems with her appearance.

She thought back to what he had just said and groaned inwardly. How was she going to manage it? How was she going to tell him that, as much as she valued him as a friend, she didn't love him like that?

Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan pulled his fingers through his dark hair and sighed, his breath coming out in an audible _whoosh_. He had followed her right here, not allowing himself time to change, so he was still dressed in his Senate outfit. Amidala looked him over silently. A loose white tunic was tucked into rough, cream-colored pants. Two intricate white-gold knots, one on each shoulder, kept a heavy cape from falling off his impressive form. His tan skin set off his pure outfit rather perfectly.

Amidala guessed that the color white was popular on Alderaan. Unconsciously, she decided to try the look herself sometime.

Bail's rich voice intruded on her thoughts, snapping her back to the present. He was saying something, but she had great difficulty focusing on him.

__

He's nervous, she thought, watching him as if someone had turned off the sound on a holo-vid. He clasped his hands in front of him, massaging the back of his palm with a wandering thumb.

As she scrutinized him, she realized how young he was. She herself had only bid for a position in the Senate last year, at the age of seventeen. Retiring from her position as Queen of Naboo two years after defeating the Trade Federation and establishing peace between the Gungans and the Naboo, she had decided to duck out of the public eye for a while. Not only was it safe for a former monarch to lay low following retirement, the new Queen needed time to establish her own reign without falling in Amidala's shadow. Jamilla seemed to be, at best, an adequate ruler, but little had presented itself to truly test her character. Nothing like what Amidala had faced as Queen.

If she was eighteen, Bail couldn't be more than six years older than her. His tan face was unwrinkled, clear brown eyes gazing out at her. While Senate clothing seemed designed to hide the feature of size-hadn't her own outfits done the same when she had been Queen? -Bail seemed to be quite muscular and trim. One could never tell, though, when everyone hid behind their public masks.

While she had been thinking, Bail had taken a seat beside her. He gently touched her fingers with his own. Inhaling deeply, he looked into her eyes.

"Amidala, will you marry me?"

The room spun dizzily, and Amidala was thankful her handmaidens, Dormé and Cordé, were busy arranging her extensive wardrobe in the next room. If she needed them, they were but a call away, though she was glad the conversation would stay private for now.

Amidala slowly extracted her hand from his fragile grasp, afraid she might break him with what she was going to say next.

Her voice was quiet, the years spent learning how to sound bigger than she really was abandoning her.

"I'm sorry, Bail. I can't."

His handsome face fell, but he valiantly tried to hide it. Amidala felt a tiny piece of her heart break off, and she longed to give it to him to make up for her rejection.

His forehead twitched and creased slightly, but when he spoke, his voice was cool and calm.

"I see. So there is someone else?" A bit of a nosy question, Amidala thought, but a man in his position deserved to know.

Amidala quickly raced through her list of suitors. Was there someone else? She doubted it. Not all men enjoyed or even understood her somewhat rebellious and independent nature. If she was ever going to marry, she was going to do it for love. Not for power or prestige. Not even for a misguided sense of necessity.

"No, Bail. There's no one else. I just . . ." She paused, wondering how she could say it without totally crushing him.

"I just don't love you in that way. I don't think I ever will."

Bail's face relaxed somewhat, and Amidala hoped it was because he knew she was a lost cause. There wouldn't be a reason to try and fight for her anymore.

He coughed, clearing his throat. "Well, Amidala," he began with a false brightness to his words, "I'm sorry to have made the fool of myself. Do forgive me. Before I go, I just want you to know that you can still count on me for anything: any favor, any request you have I would give my life to see it fulfilled. Because we are friends?"

The last sentence was a question, desperation peeking through his words. How could she deny such a kind man her friendship? She would not wound him again by rejecting this wish.

Amidala rose and nodded, kissing Bail lightly on the cheek.

"We are friends," she answered strongly, but sounding for the world like the little girl she really was.


End file.
